


For the King

by 1birb



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1birb/pseuds/1birb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Could you be happy here with me?” Jon almost whispered as he looked out over the balcony. The view of King’s Landing from that spot was particularly beautiful, especially after staring at nothing but ice, snow, barren trees, and grey buildings for years. Jaime’s silence at his question snapped him out of his reverie and he turned his head to look back at his Lord Commander. “Did you hear me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Jaime replied, avoiding his eyes. Jon averted his eyes downward then. Jaime’s silence spoke volumes on his potential happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But could you be happy?

“Could you be happy here with me?” Jon almost whispered as he looked out over the balcony. The view of King’s Landing from that spot was particularly beautiful, especially after staring at nothing but ice, snow, barren trees, and grey buildings for years. Jaime’s silence at his question snapped him out of his reverie and he turned his head to look back at his Lord Commander. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jaime replied, avoiding his eyes. Jon averted his eyes downward then. Jaime’s silence spoke volumes on his potential happiness.

Jaime noticed the other’s downcast look and he shook his head, reaching forward with his left hand to place it on Jon’s arm. “You misunderstand my silence.”

When Jon looked up again, tears danced on the corners of his eyes. “Then what exactly did I misunderstand, Ser Jaime?”

“It is an honor to serve you day in and day out. Although it pains me to stand by while you deceive the Queen, I can handle that too—I am no stranger to deception. But look at you.”

“Look at me?” Jon laughed, finding Jaime’s eyes with his own again. “What about me?”

“You don’t belong here, in King’s Landing. You look out of place, your clothing looks uncomfortable, and you seem bored with the politics that come with kingship. Hell, you even have a consistent sunburn,” Jaime managed to smile at his last point, knowing it was true. He was happy to see Jon crack a smile too. “This is Queen Daenerys’ domain, she hails from the South—you do not.”

Jon nodded once and he stepped closer to Jaime, glancing up at him again. “Then what would you suggest I do?”

“Well, you could begin with ceasing to ask me if I could be happy here with you, because I can’t. I can’t be happy while you’re so obviously miserable.”

The smaller man looked away, sighing heavily, “You know what I meant. What would you have me do, Jaime?” 

“Go home. Go back to your family. To Wintefell, to Sansa, to Rickon and Ghost—go home.” There was a hint of sadness in his voice as Jaime spoke. 

“It’s not that easy, Jaime, it’s not and you know it. The Que—“

“You know damned well she would gladly rule alone, Jon. If you wanted the title of Warden of the North, she would hand it to you gladly,” Jaime insisted, but he paused to muse, “Well, you may have to fight Sansa for the title back, but that’s beside the point.”

“I don’t need any titles. I only wanted to unify the kingdoms and we’ve done just that,” Jon spoke quietly now, staring off as if deep in thought.  
“Then give full reign to the Queen. You know she’s more than capable. Go home.” Jon looked hurt as Jaime so easily insisted he leave King’s Landing. Averting his eyes again, he fought back tears at this entire conversation. Jaime could see the hurt on Jon’s face and he narrowed his eyes, confused. “Jon, what is it?”

“You’re my home now too.”

Slightly taken aback by this, Jaime let his mouth open slightly, at a loss for words. In the silent space, Jon continued, “I can’t just pick up and leave King’s Landing if it means leaving you too. You have been nothing but loyal and kind to me. You have served me faithfully and loved me more than anyone ever has before.”

Jaime could see Jon getting increasingly upset and a tear slid down his cheek. He rushed close to his king, using his left hand to wipe the tear away. He hated to see Jon cry. “Jon…” Jaime trailed off, unsure of what to say to comfort him.

When Jon looked up at Jaime, eyes red and brimming with tears, he felt sorry. “If…following you to the North would please my king, then I will do it in a heartbeat. I will shed the armor of your Kingsguard and follow you wherever I am needed,” Jaime insisted. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the only home he knew, but he would follow Jon anywhere if it meant his happiness.

“But…” Jon started, swallowing a lump in his throat, “could you be happy in Winterfell with me?” 

“My answer to that is the same as it was when you asked it before. My home is with you, wherever you decide to go. At first, it was…difficult serving you here—a Lannister, the Kingslayer, serving a king who was both Stark and Targaeryn. I’ll admit, the cold in Winterfell would take some getting used to; but you’re my home now. In King’s Landing, or in Winterfell, I will be happy with you.” 

Jaime’s honesty was doing nothing to stop the few tears that escaped from Jon’s eyes. He had his doubts about Jaime when he first accepted him into the Kingsguard, sparing his life in exchange for his loyalty and service, but those doubts had disappeared fast. He had gone from Jon’s enemy, to a trusted guard, to a friend, and now a lover.

“Thank you, Jaime,” Jon sniffled a little, giving Jaime a sincere smile. “I hope the Queen takes the news well.”

“Knowing her…” Jaime paused, squinting his eyes and looking off into the distance to think, “She’ll be pleased to serve as a lone monarch.”

Jon nodded, looking out in the general direction that Jaime did. The sun was setting, casting elongated shadows across the city.

“I’ll have to speak with her.”


	2. The Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Jaime make a stop at Moat Cailin, currently in repair, to rest for the night on their way to Winterfell.

Jaime was right. Daenerys did not seem the least bit surprised and was more than happy to rule on her own. Their marriage had been a marriage of convenience—a way to rally the North in support of her claim. To Jon, it was a way of assuring his home wasn’t burnt to ashes by three powerful dragons. Everyone had won.

Dany had known Jon’s heart did not belong to her, and to be completely honest, her heart never belonged to him either. She would forever mourn Khal Drogo, bide her time with Daario, and think back on the man who had loved her more than this world, Jorah Mormont. The fact she would rule alone felt _right_.

She gave Jon her blessing in leaving King’s Landing and laughed quietly behind his back—Jaime was right, Jon didn’t belong there and his constant sunburn was evidence enough. Dany would miss his jokes and the company of Ghost though, that much was true.

For Jon and Jaime, the journey to Winterfell was to be a long one. 

If there was a positive side to the reformation of Westeros and the massive loss of life that had come with it, it was that the Kingsroad was now safer to travel and that Moat Cailin, their current stop, was in the midst of repair, as was many other previously ruined cities.

Jon sat up on a horse with Ghost waiting at the edge of the woods as Jaime walked into an inn to secure their stay.

The barkeep was more than happy, or intimidated, to accommodate the Kingslayer, but whenever he walked outside to gather Jaime’s horses, he nearly doubled over in shock to see their king accompanying him. Jon didn’t have the heart to correct the barkeep as he dismounted his horse to follow Jaime inside, glancing back to see Ghost slink off into the forest. 

After hours on horseback, being able to sit on a soft, still bed was a great relief. Jon watched Jaime stand in the corner of their room, removing his armor. “Do you need a hand?” Jon chuckled, biting his lip immediately after letting out the laugh, almost sorry for his joke.

Jaime rolled his eyes—he had heard that one plenty of times, and he was perfectly capable of removing his own armor, but help was always welcome too, especially when it was from Jon. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Jaime glanced over at his lover, narrowing his eyes before adding, “Is that why you were so willing to give up kingship? To become a jester?”

Jon laughed again as he stood up slowly, stretching a little before joining Jaime to assist in removing his armor. “I’m really not that funny.”

“No shit.” The pair exchanged knowing looks before bursting out in laughter again. Jon made quick work of removing Jaime’s armor, placing each piece on a table and the floor below it. The final piece Jon removed was Jaime’s sword belt, scabbard, and sword. He admired the sword as he placed it on the table. It was a custom piece that Jon had commissioned as a gift to his favorite knight—a near replica of Jaime’s original sword he had wielded in his earlier days as Robert Baratheon’s Lord Commander. Except this sword not only had a lion’s head, but a direwolf’s on the other side of the lion. Jon had feared Jaime would have been more offended at receiving this updated sword, but he had accepted it with grace and humility—eventually growing to treasure this gift from his king. 

“We should go downstairs and have some dinner. You must be starving—I am,” Jon commented, reaching around Jaime from behind to run his hands up Jaime’s stomach to his chest, pulling him close to close the space between them. He smiled as he felt Jaime reach up to lace their fingers together with his left hand—his right, metal hand simply rested on top of Jon’s own right hand.

Jaime smiled fondly as he felt Jon nuzzle against his back. No one had any idea how short their king was until they met him in person. “Dinner sounds lovely. At this point, I’d eat a raw hen if it was placed in front of me.”

“Let’s go then.” Jon carefully pulled away from Jaime, tugging him towards the door by his left hand. “Do you think we’ll be so lucky that they’ll have roasted chicken?”

“The barkeep thinks you’re still the king—I believe he’d go to Essos to retrieve you wine from Volantis if you requested,” Jaime laughed softly, letting go of Jon’s hand so they could make their way downstairs for dinner without rousing suspicions as to why Jon was traveling North exactly.

It had been a very long time since either had stayed at an inn such as this one, and even longer since Jaime had shared a meal amongst common folk. The idea didn’t thrill him, but this was what he had agreed to. He would be happy and at home as long as he was at his king’s side—even if it meant sitting at a crude bench across from Jon to eat a simple meal and drink mediocre ale.


	3. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing can truly be "left behind." Jon and Jaime attempt to enjoy a quiet evening at the inn.

Jaime had no intention of drinking as much of that mediocre ale as he did. The same went for Jon, but the inn was so lively and welcoming. The room was dimly lit by candles in each window and at the end of every table. Three musicians played familiar songs, only pausing to have a drink. It was hard to say no to a second tankard and a third. They had drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm and to forget the disappointing dinner they had just shared.

Jon smiled at Jaime, hearing the musicians play an old song for House Stark. He thought there was no way Jaime would recognize it, but it pleased Jon to hear it, even if the trio were pandering to their ‘king.’ “This place isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I never said it was,” Jaime smirked, realizing he must have failed at disguising his expressions during their earlier arrival, but his smirk soon faded. Of course he recognized the song—he was older than Jon, had been around longer to hear many of the common songs in his travels.

It made him melancholy to hear it. The last time he had heard it, Ned Stark was still alive—he may have been a foe, but he respected Ned all the same. The song reminded him of ‘The Rains of Castamere,’ and how there was no one left to sing it, which was ironic, considering it detailed the destruction of House Reyne and now his house had suffered the same fate. Jaime was unsure if he even wished to hear it ever again. He thought about how his house would finally die with him, and how he was almost glad for that. It was what the Lannisters deserved, wasn’t it?

Jon could see the subtle panic setting in on Jaime’s face as he delved deep into his own thoughts. “Jaime.” Jon had seen that expression before, and he knew what it meant. They had spent countless hours at private dinners, or in bed, talking about the guilt Jaime could never shake. “Jaime—how about we go upstairs, hm?” 

Jaime nodded, desperate to think about anything else, and to get away from that bloody song. He closed his eyes tightly as he stood up, trying to slow his breathing as he now thought of the day he had learned about Robb Stark, his mother, and the Lady Talisa. They hadn’t even spared the direwolf—and what they had done to their bodies, it was downright disrespectful, even for sworn enemies. He always tried to push it out of his mind, but then there would be times like this. Times when a song would bring it all back. No one deserved what had happened to them, and to make matters worse, it was Jon’s family. Jaime had blamed himself—he was sure his father had allowed it to happen all because of his stupid hand. A hand that had murdered how many others, and yet, Jon worried for him. Jon, who no longer had his beloved brother all because of him.

When the bedroom door was closed and the music was muted, the relief on Jaime’s face was apparent. Jon looked at him sympathetically, and Jaime felt disgusted. He didn’t deserve his king’s sympathy, what he deserved was the sword. No, he deserved a slow, torturous death. But here was Jon anyways—quick to caress Jaime’s face in an attempt to calm him. Quick to kiss at his lips tenderly to help the Kingslayer forget. “Shhhh,” Jon tried to hush Jaime over and over, reaching up to run his fingers through Jaime’s short hair. He would never grow it long again—not after what had happened.

Jon rested his forehead against Jaime’s after pulling him closer so he could reach. He knew what Jaime was going through—certain things would bring back memories like this for him too. Certain smells would remind him of Robb, a stubborn girl would bring him back to Ygritte, a young boy with a head of curly hair always caused him to think of Rickon—they were memories that could never be forgotten.

“Shhh,” he repeated, kissing at Jaime’s lips tenderly as he moved his hands to cradle Jaime’s face. Jon knew what it was to be a haunted person.


	4. Absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is able to finally calm down and enjoy his evening with Jon before deciding if he could truly be happy at Winterfell.

Jaime was seated on his and Jon’s bed, his breathing finally evening out. Jon sat by his side, resting his hand on top of Jaime’s metal one. Upon entering Jon’s Kingsguard, a new hand had been constructed for Jaime to match his new armor. This one was silver, and still elegantly designed in fine detail. Jaime liked how this one drew less attention, how it looked of the North. It was apparent that it was a gift from his king, and everyone knew it.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Jaime finally spoke up. “We were having a nice night and I’ve ruined it.”

Jon shook his head, looking into Jaime’s eyes again. “No…no, don’t apologize,” he began, taking a deep breath, “The night’s still young and I’ve got to be honest, I’m still pretty drunk.”

At this confession, both men managed to laugh at Jon’s honesty. Jaime and Jon were both still feeling the effects of the ale they’d consumed. As Jon laughed, Jaime couldn’t help but look at his lover and _watch_ him. He loved to see Jon smile and laugh, and when he had first taken Jaime into his Kingsguard, Jon’s smiles had been rare.

The knight often thought that if his king’s smiling face was the last thing he saw, he could die peacefully. 

Jaime leaned forward, placing a light kiss on Jon’s lips, smiling as he felt the curve of Jon’s lips against his own. Jon was right—the night was still young and they were both fairly intoxicated, and so Jaime lifted his left hand to place it on the back of Jon’s neck as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. 

Jon accepted the kiss, grateful for the change in mood, but he was fast to shift into Jaime’s lap. The smaller man didn’t hold his alcohol as well and so he was soon straddling the Lannister’s lap, kissing him with a roughness that matched his house.

Appreciative for the distraction too, Jaime was just as fast to hold Jon in his lap by gripping onto his waist the best he could, gasping into the kiss as tongue and tooth clashed. As the pair kissed, Jon was quick to undo the buckles on Jaime’s jacket, knowing exactly what he wanted—what they both needed.

The hand would have to be removed to get the jacket off, but Jon took his time, removing the hand, the jacket, and then placing Jaime’s hand back on him, knowing he would want it that way. As he reattached the hand, Jon rolled his hips down against the Kingslayer’s eliciting a soft moan from him. Jaime always loved how insistent and needy Jon was in bed. The older man didn’t believe in any of the gods, but he prayed he would always be able to satisfy his king.

Jaime lifted his left hand to begin undoing the straps on Jon’s leather tunic, sighing in frustration as it took too longer than he wanted to remove the garment from Jon. Getting the hint, Jon reached up to finish removing the tunic, dropping it off the bed. 

Once his chest was exposed, Jaime leaned forward, placing kisses on the old scars littered across Jon’s chest from the time his own men betrayed him. Jon hated to be reminded of that time, but the kisses were too good to pass up and so he reached up, running his fingers through Jaime’s hair. He gasped as he felt the larger man kiss at his left nipple while his left hand came up to tease at the right.

“J-Jaime,” Jon choked out, pressing his hips down against Jaime’s again. 

Jaime lifted his head, looking up into his king’s eyes, inhaling sharply. “Tell me, my lord, tell me what you want tonight.” 

Looking down into the Kingslayer’s eyes, Jon weighed his options, biting his lip at how uncomfortable his trousers had become. “I wish to ride you. I want to see your face when you release into me.” Jon blushed at his own words; before Jaime, he never vocalized his wants and he still wasn’t completely used to it.

Jaime smiled at his king’s request and ran his left hand along Jon’s side, looking him over. “Yes, my lord, you do enjoy reminding me how well men from the North can ride,” Jaime responded, smirking as he noticed the red blush on Jon’s skin get even darker at his words.

Pulling away from Jaime to stand up, Jon undresses hastily, keeping his eyes on Jaime as he watched the Kingslayer do the same. He narrowed his eyes at Jaime’s quip and smirked, trying to regain his dignity, “Of course I like reminding you how well we can ride—there’s plenty of things we Northerners are better at.” 

Reaching down with his left hand to stroke himself a few times, Jaime moved to lie back on the bed, watching Jon approach after fetching a small bottle of oil. He tossed the vial to Jaime, before getting back onto the bed, straddling his lap, but facing away from his knight this time. “There may be plenty of things you Northerners are better at, but keep in mind—a Southerner was able to get a king to bend over for him,” Jaime chuckled quietly, taking in the sight before him. He opened is mouth to say more but decided against it when he saw Jon glare back at him icily.

The older man leaned up towards Jon, reaching up with his metal hand to push him forward so he could gain better access to Jon’s ass. Jaime flipped open the vial to slick up his left hand before tossing it aside.

“Bend over for you? I’m doing this for—“ Jon was cut off by his own moaning as he felt Jaime push two fingers against his hole. He leaned forward further, spreading his legs to give Jaime more room. Jon gripped at the furs below them as Jaime took his time to finger Jon open, ensuring he was ready to take his long, thick cock.

When Jon felt he was ready, or simply too overwhelmed to allow Jaime to keep pushing at his prostate so agonizingly slow, he pulled away to hint at Jaime to stop. Ever obedient, Jaime removed his fingers from Jon, lying back, knowing what was to come next.

Jon turned around to face his knight, face red with embarrassment at how he had moaned only moments before from _just_ Jaime’s fingers. He positioned himself over Jaime’s impressive cock, holding onto the base as he lowered himself onto it, mouth hanging agape at the sensation.

No matter how much Jaime would stretch him, Jon was never completely ready for Jaime. He could stretch himself to accommodate Jaime’s girth most of the time, but his length would always take his breath away. “Tell me again, Stark. Tell me how Northerners are better at everything,” Jaime teased, holding onto Jon’s hips as the other man settled onto him.

Despite his teasing, Jon felt incredible around Jaime’s cock—tight, and hot, and perfect. He couldn’t help but slowly roll his hips up against Jon, trying to fuck into him already.

Jon responded eagerly, lifting his hips only to bring them back down on Jaime slowly. He groaned at how Jaime filled him, at how willing Jaime was to have him. “How is this?” Jon asked, increasing his pace gradually as he looked down into the Kingslayer’s eyes. 

“Harder, Jon, please,” Jaime practically begged, gasping as Jon met his request by pushing down against him harder, allowing Jaime to thrust up into him at the same time. 

It wasn’t long before the two were pushing against each other at a punishing pace. Jon would practically whimper as Jaime’s cock slammed hard against his sweet spot, and being able to watch Jaime’s face was just as nice. 

For a man with one hand, Jaime was able to multi-task impressively. He gripped at Jon’s cock, pumping him as he felt the smaller man clench around his own, a sure sign that Jon was approaching orgasm. “Come for me, my lord, please,” Jaime begged, looking into Jon’s dark eyes as he tightened his hold on his prick and used his other hand to steady Jon’s hips.

“Y-yes, my knight,” Jon stuttered back, breathing heavily. He whimpered as Jaime put pressure on his balls on each down stroke, and it caused him to only work himself faster on Jaime’s erection.

Between Jaime jerking him off, and fucking up into him earnestly, it wasn’t long before Jon was coming onto his knight’s hand and stomach, crying out as he did so. Jon looked beautiful as he came—free from the usual rigidness that adorned his face.

Jaime was quick to follow, sliding his cock deep into Jon as he came, knowing how Jon liked to feel Jaime forcing his come deep into him. “Fucking hells,” Jaime panted as he continued to thrust lazily against Jon, riding out his orgasm.

Both men were out of breath as Jon rested against Jaime’s chest in exhaustion, allowing Jaime to work at pulling out of him. Jon whimpered as Jaime finally pulled out, already missing the full sensation he felt with Jaime inside of him.

The knight smiled as Jon rested his head in the crook of his neck, trying to calm down. “I’ll admit it, you Northerners are great at riding,” Jaime laughed softly, holding Jon close to him. 

The smaller man smiled fondly, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ll admit. You Southerners are impressive too.” 

The pair remained quiet for a few minutes before Jon rolled off Jaime carefully, resting on his side so he could watch Jaime better; so he could see appreciate the beauty of his face in the dim candlelight.

Jon let his fingers dance across Jaime’s chest as he watched his breathing slow. “I love you, Ser Jaime,” he said quietly, unsure if Jaime would hear him.

Jaime smiled fondly, tilting his head to meet Jon’s eyes. “And I love you more than this world, my lord,” the Kingslayer answered sincerely.

Both men knew that they were bound to the other, that they would die for the other. They would leave in the morning to arrive at Winterfell by nightfall, where they would hopefully live out the rest of their days, and hopefully never see the battlefield in their lives again.

Jaime knew it. Despite the snow, the cold, and his nagging memories, he could be happy there with Jon.


End file.
